”I would like to buy you breakfast”, Delioron said. He was standing at Radawen’s door in the guesthouse they both had rooms in. Radawen looked at Delioron through the cracked door, dressed only in her morning robe, eyes still drowsy with sleep.
”Breakfast?” Radawen asked. Her voice sounded husky and nice. ”What time is it?”
”Early morning. Past dawn.”
”Past dawn? Damn, I’m all dozy and tired, but I have to get up now.”
”I have heard rumors that may interest you. Yesterday I heard some guards talking in a tavern. About the death of Saruman’s emissary.”
”Martun? Everyone says he died of natural causes. His heart just failed. It happens.”
”Perhaps”, Delioron said. ”But I’m not so sure. And neither are the guards who found his body. But let’s not talk about this here. Can I buy you breakfast?”
”Give me ten minutes. I’m not dressed yet. I have to get decent.”
Radawen closed the door and Delioron walked outside of the guesthouse to wait. The sun was up and the day was clear and beautiful. A slight warm breeze blew from the south.
Several days had passed since Martun’s death, and Delioron had met Radawen twice after their first encounter when Delioron had offered her late supper in the Garland. They enjoyed each other’s company. If Radawen had ever had any doubts about his sincerity, all suspicions had evaporated by now. She seemed more open and trusting now.
Trust me!
Delioron had not been aware that Romenstar was writing a diary before Radawen had told him that on their second meeting. He was writing a secret diary under the supervision of Saruman’s emissary.
But then Saruman’s emissary suddenly died. Heart failure was the official cause of death, but Delioron was not so sure. Last night he had overheard some guards discussing the incident in a tavern. What made them suspect foul play was the fact that the expression on Martun's face had been that of pure horror, like he had seen or experienced something truly horrifying right before his heart stopped. That had reminded Delioron about that night in Bree about a year ago, the night when he had woken up in his room in the Prancing Pony in the company of Demrîng and the corpse of a man who had tried to kill him. The expression on the dead man’s face had been like he had died of fright, and Delioron had not been able to figure out how Demrîng had killed him.
Radawen would get to the truth. And then Delioron would snatch it from her. He was not concerned about justice or murder, he was a killer himself after all. What he could not figure out was the reason why Saruman’s emissary had been murdered, if that’s what had indeed happened to him. In his trade it was dangerous to make hasty assumptions.
Why had Martun been killed? Why had Demrîng killed him? Or perhaps he had been killed by someone else? But why?
Delioron had never sent Parthadan the ’proof’ about Romenstar Demrîng had provided him with. He had felt it unwise to do so, not yet anyway. Not until he understood the scenario better himself. He had not even mentioned Demrîng’s presence in Imloth Melui in his reports to Parthadan yet. There was so much Parthadan thought Delioron ’did not need to know’ that it was only fair that he returned the favor sometimes.
A little later Radawen came out of the guestroom. She looks so fresh and beautiful, Delioron thought, hating himself in that moment. In the end he would exploit her and then discard her like yesterday’s trash.
A smile spread on Radawen’s bright face as Delioron approached her. She waved her hand and Delioron waved her back, thinking how unfamiliar this situation was for him, this unexpected outburst of emotions she aroused in him. He had thought he had numbed all emotions like that years ago in order to survive.
Delioron had killed people before, when the completion of an assignment or his own survival had required it. From the moment he had met Radawen he had understood he could never explain or excuse it to Radawen. The murders had stained his soul and the thoughts of killing or getting killed had marked him. His dreams were filled with blood and death, filled with fear that numbed his emotions like slow-acting poison. His nightmares never left him, not even when the dawn came. The memories of the dead chained him.
Radawen had, without knowing it, been able to penetrate through all these layers of death and make the nightmares go away, never ever knowing they were there. She had been able to touch Delioron.
”You look tired”, she said now, sounding spontaneously concerned.
Radawen did not look tired, not anymore. The wind blew her soft red hair from her lively face. Her green eyes, like forest ponds, sparkled. Suddenly, unexpectedly, she kissed Delioron. It was something they had never done before.
”Why did you kiss me?” Delioron asked, staring into her lovely face. She kissed him again.
”Because you are so grave and formal all the time. A true gentleman, the way the old ladies like them! My grandmother would have approved of you, boy!”
”Thank you”, he said gravely. ”But you are not an old lady.”
They laughed and embraced each other, a little bit longer than either of them meant. And when they started walking down the street, they were walking hand in hand. They walked to the Garland and ordered eggs and ham, tomatoes and white bread.
”Just a simple farm girl!” Radawen grinned as she lifted a fork into her mouth.
Delioron sipped his mulled wine and stared at the remains of the eggs in his plate. He did not have much appetite now and he never ate for pleasure. He ate for fuel and when social reasons called for it.
”Martun”, he said. ”The guards said he had an expression of pure terror plastered upon his face when he died.”
Radawen waited. Delioron sipped his mulled wine. He set down the mug and the waiter came to fill it to the brim. It was not easy to continue, he would have to be very careful.
”He came from Isengard”, Delioron began. ”Saruman sent him here for some purpose. Probably to keep an eye on Romenstar and ask him questions. The Rangers had already interrogated him.”
”What are you trying to tell me?”
”I don’t think Martun died of natural causes. I think he was poisoned.”
”This is unbelievable!” Radawen exclaimed. ”The Rangers of Ithilien poisoning people in Imloth Melui…”
Delioron lifted his gaze sharply. ”What makes you think it was the Rangers?”
”What do you mean?”
Delioron realized he was moving in dangerous territory and backed away. ”There are muggers and cutthroats in Imloth Melui too. Some of them use poisons.”
Radawen stared at him. ”So you’re telling me that you believe someone murdered Martun.”
”I think it’s possible.”
”Why?”
”Because he knew too much. Or because he was the wrong man.”
Radawen kept staring at him blankly.
”Do you understand?” Delioron asked in his low, flat voice. ”A man surfaces in North Ithilien, a man who claims to be Romenstar, a wizard who has not been seen in Gondor for thousands of years. That’s how the whole insanity began. The Rangers take him to Minas Tirith and keep him locked up there. Very peculiar. Then they release him and take him to Imloth Melui, and Saruman sends a man from Isengard to shut him up, find out what he knows or whatever. Even more bizarre. And then Romenstar begins to draw attention to himself by performing miracle healings in the Hall of the Gentle Hand, drawing crowd from far and wide to Imloth Melui. And finally the man from Isengard is murdered. Do you think all these odd events are connected? If you do, you have to stop looking at them as a series of bizarre accidents and start considering them as parts of a whole.”
Radawen was silent for a moment. ”Why are you telling me this?” she asked after a while.
”Why wouldn’t I?” Delioron’s voice conveyed exhaustion which was not a lie or part of the role he was playing. He was tired, tired of all the lies and truths he was feeding to Radawen. The truths exhausted him; the truths and the lies were getting all mixed up in his head. Just like the lies Demrîng had fed him. Demrîng was his mirror. When he saw Demrîng he saw himself, when he heard Demrîng he heard himself.
”Maybe you are doing it because you want to help me”, Radawen said, touching his hand. ”Maybe you are doing it because you are an honorable man.”
”A man of honor”, Delioron said, mocking himself.
”Yes.”
”It has nothing to do with honor”, Delioron said. ”It’s all part of my tactics, like buying you breakfast.” He realized he was serving truths wrapped up in lies again.
”When all this is over”, Radawen began, then paused, hesitating. ”We will see each other again?”
”In Minas Tirith? When you go back to the Houses of Lore?”
”No. I may go to Minas Tirith, but I will not go back to the Houses of Lore.”
”Why not?” he asked.
”Because it’s over”, Radawen said with blunt finality. ”We split up, Aranuir and me. He let me go and bad things happened between us. I can’t go back anymore.”
”You say it almost like someone who has ended a love affair”, Delioron said softly.
Radawen shook her head. ”We were just friends and nothing more, truly. I liked him and I suppose I still do. He taught me a lot. But he broke my trust and when trust is broken you can’t go back to shake hands and tell them it was nothing.”
”How did he break your trust?”
”He tried to prevent me from coming to Imloth Melui. I don’t know why, but he lied to me about this case. The whole time I had a feeling that he didn’t want me to talk to Romenstar, not because he was worried for my safety but because he knew there was something there, something he didn’t want me to know. And he never told me what. That’s lying, keeping secrets like that. Trust is broken and it can never be mended again.”
Her words wounded Delioron. Radawen saw the flash of pain in his eyes and mistook it as pity for her. She touched his hand again.
”Don’t worry”, she said. ”I’ll manage.” Radawen squeezed his hand tightly across the table.
”Delioron”, she said after a moment of hesitation. ”I trust you. There are things I could not tell you earlier. Things I couldn’t tell even Aranuir, not before it was too late. But I can tell you now.”
Delioron waited without making a move. After all it was exactly what he had wanted: Trust me! He saw something in Radawen’s eyes, something he at first mistook as pity. Then he realized it was not pity at all, it was something far more heartbreaking than that. He did not want to look into her eyes, but he was not going to spoil the mood by looking away either.
”I know that I will get the diary”, she said. Delioron waited, feeling the tension swell in his throat. ”I spoke with Romenstar yesterday. In the Hall of the Gentle Hand, when he was alone.”
She really is good, Delioron thought. ”How did you do it?” he asked, forcing his voice to sound calm.
”I never left the Hall with the others. I hid behind the statues when the crowd left and Maegon locked the doors.”
”So you broke in there?”
”Not quite”, Radawen smiled. ”I just didn’t leave when I was supposed to. Then I just waited, until I saw Romenstar alone.”
”That’s ingenious”, he said with admiration. It really was. Something like that would have never even crossed his mind.
”That’s right, and it even led to results.” Radawen pulled out her hand, took her mug of mulled wine and sipped it. A waiter came to pick up the dishes. ”When Romenstar finally came to the atrium I must have been hiding there for six hours at least. I was very careful. I didn’t want to scare him, as he looks so old and frail. Unfortunately I did startle him a bit. He stared at me like I was a ghost.”
”And then he talked to you?”
”He did”, Radawen said, looking at Delioron triumphantly. ”What do you say about that?”
He said nothing.
”Romenstar told me he has written in his diary everything he had seen in Rhûn. Everything. And guess what he told me about Martun?”
That he was a spy, Delioron thought, but said nothing. He waited for her to continue.
”He told me that Martun was Saruman’s spy. He said he was so tired. He said that death was following him, following everyone around him and killing them. He said that he wanted it all to end and that he would give the diary to me when it was ready. Only then it would be over.”
Well, Delioron thought, it was going to be so easy after all. Radawen trusted him now and she would make it easy for him.
Radawen was looking at her hand laying on Delioron’s, she was looking at the mugs of mulled wine on the white marble table. ”Once I almost told you something about my brother, Tologben. It is connected with this business with Romenstar. Why it was so important for me to find out what Romenstar knows.”
Delioron remembered the family portrait on the wall of Radawen’s room in Minas Tirith. The handsome young man in Citadel Guard armor.
”Tologben went to Rhûn”, she began, talking unevenly, as if too many thoughts had suddenly surfaced at the same time.
”He was sent to Rhûn on a secret mission and I thought, maybe Romenstar knew him, knew what happened to him…”
Delioron waited until Radawen was able to gather her fragmented thoughts into whole sentences.
”They said he was a traitor, that he sold out to Sauron. First they ruined my father’s reputation and career for accusations of treason, and then my…”
Radawen’s voice suddenly broke and Delioron was surprised to see tears in her eyes. He had not expected tears. He left some coins on the table, stood up, took Radawen’s arm and walked her out of the bright tavern. He held her gently by the arm and led her across the bridge to the western side of Imloth Melui. It had rained heavily in the morning, but the day would be clear and bright and beautiful.
They walked through the relatively hidden entrance to a lower path on the bank of River Erui. It was a peaceful spot with easy access to the water below the great waterfalls, hidden from view above by scattered pines. Radawen took off her shoes and held them in her hand as they walked down the path to watch the waterfall. There they waited, breathing in the beautiful morning air, apart from each other, for Radawen to carry on with her story.
”Tologben was a Citadel Guard”, Radawen said quietly, looking at her feet, her bare toes drawing symbols on the sand. Her voice had become very quiet and withdrawn. Had she ever told these secrets to Aranuir?
”You should have seen him. He was a really handsome lad.”
Delioron saw with his mind’s eye the family portrait again. Radawen looked up as if to make sure Delioron was still there, still listening.
”My father loved Gondor and he lived to serve Gondor. I already told you that. He served in the Council of Gondor under Steward Ecthelion, but when bad people in the Council began spreading vile rumors about him… he was forced to resign.” Radawen fell silent for a moment. ”Curse them all, the bastards!”
Delioron grabbed her by the arm again and walked with her down the path, closer to the waterfall.
”Tologben was sent to Rhûn to a secret mission. That’s all he ever said to us about it, and then he disappeared. We tried to find out what happened to him, me and my father, but they told us only that Tologben was a traitor to Gondor and we should not ask more questions about him… for our own sake. It broke my father’s heart and he didn’t live long after that. Maybe I should have told this to Aranuir as well. It all came back to me when I heard about Romenstar. I couldn’t stop thinking about Tologben and father. He was so loyal to Gondor, they pulled the rug from under his feet and still he loved Gondor more than anything. And Tologben was just like him.”
Radawen stopped and turned to look at Delioron, her face hard, tears in her eyes. ”I asked him, I asked Romenstar if he had known Tologben. You see, I had to meet somebody who had known him. I had to find somebody who could tell me what happened to him, and tell me that he was not a traitor.”
”And you could never tell this to anyone before, not even Aranuir?”
”Yes.”
There was nothing Delioron could say to that. Radawen was now crying openly, turning her face towards the waterfall, away from him. He touched Radawen and held her in his arms, but allowed her to cry in peace. When she was able to speak again Radawen wiped her tears with the sleeve of her dress. ”He had known Tologben.”
”Romenstar?”
”Yes. I asked it of him. I told him about Tologben. Romenstar said he had known him. He said Tologben was no traitor.”
A comforting lie, Delioron thought. He would not have believed it.
”Was that enough for you?”
”Yes”, Radawen said. ”It bothered my father for the rest of his life. He never gave up asking questions, trying to find out the truth, but he died before he found it. But I am now sure. I trust Romenstar. I had to know it and now I do. But I still have to know what happened to Tologben. Romenstar did not tell me that.”
Delioron said nothing. He had never been burdened by loyalty to a family. He accepted Radawen’s pain, but he could not understand it. He could only pity her.
”I can tell you about it now”, Radawen said, turning towards him, his arms still wrapped around her. ”I trust you.”
That’s right, Delioron thought. Trust me!
”Can you understand it?” Radawen asked.
”Yes”, he lied.
”I have so much to tell you”, she said and kissed him.
He felt her soft body press against him. He kissed her back and could only think about how he was betraying her.
He took her back into her room where the bed was made and all clothes hung neatly in the closet. He thought that the room looked just as lonely as his own. In that moment he forgot that he was betraying her, he refused himself to think how it all would play out in the end.
He never said that he loved her. He told her no secrets. And because he did not speak, not with his mouth anyway, he did not lie to her either.
